


Fighting Words

by modernraceownsairpods



Series: Fighting Words [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, big rip, for sad boi hours, this is a sad boi fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernraceownsairpods/pseuds/modernraceownsairpods
Summary: Written from a request: "sprace where jack and spot get in a fight?"It had been a week of incessant bickering between Jack and Spot, and Racetrack Higgins was caught right up in the middle of it. He couldn't take much more of this.





	Fighting Words

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the angstiest goddamn fics I've written, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Race was having a terrible day. A terrible week, actually. One of the worst he’d ever had, and that was saying something.

“Race,” Spot hissed. “Tell Jack here that if he’s here to apologize, I’m all ears.”

“Oh, real mature.” Jack snarled. “Race, tell Spot that  _I’m_  not going to be the one apologizing because  _I didn’t do anything wrong_.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

Race couldn’t handle this for much longer. Last week, Spot had come home in a fury over something Jack had said. Race wasn’t even sure what it was, because Spot had just slammed his keys on the counter and stalked into their bedroom when he came home. When he had tried to ask him about it later that night, he just ignored him and changed the subject. It had been a week of incessant bickering between the two, and Racetrack Higgins was caught right up in the middle of it.

The two stormed away from each other, leaving Race alone and frustrated. He didn’t want to be a part of this. Spot was his boyfriend, but Jack was his best friend, and both expected him to back them up. Which was hard for a number of reasons, the most important one being  _he didn’t have any fucking idea what they were fighting about_. Every time he tried to ask, Spot would shut him out, and every time he tried to ask Jack, Spot would drag him away. He was getting really fucking sick of it.

It was the weekend, and their Albert was throwing a party to celebrate the ending of the quarter. Spot had decided to go, and Race figured he’d tag along, having nothing better to do. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for Jack to be there.

Jack was hardly the party type, and when he saw him enter the room holding a red solo cup, Race had nearly dropped his. Spot was by his side in an instant, rough hand pressing into his.

“Do you wanna go?” He asked quietly.

Race bit back a retort. “No, I’m fine here. You?”

“As long as he keeps his distance, I’ll be fucking fine.” Race just scoffed and threw back his drink, downing it in one swig. He wasn’t drunk enough for this. “I thought you were supposed to be the designated driver tonight.” Spot accused.

“I changed my mind,” Race retorted, starting out towards the many beer cases lining the back wall. “Sobriety is boring, anyway.”

“Hmm, that sounds like stage one of an alcohol addiction.” Spot chuckled.

“Fuck you,” Race said passively, opening a fresh bottle of beer and taking another large swig.

“If you insist,” Spot winked playfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m gonna go socialize for a while, text me if you want to leave, okay?”

Race just hummed and nodded, his practiced eyes already flicking over the crowd. Hookups weren’t his thing anymore, not after meeting Spot, but he still liked to familiarize himself with the crowd. After getting together with his boyfriend, Race found that it was actually often more fun to have a conversation with people than to sleep with them.

He could feel the effects of the many beers he’d downed, though he wasn’t too far gone yet.

Jack saw him from across the room and gave a quick wave, starting out towards Race. Race was about to get up to meet him when he felt a pair of lips on the side of his neck.

“Hey baby,” Spot crooned. “I’m ready to get outta here, what do you say?”

“Actually, can you wait a little bit? I want to talk to—someone.”

He felt Spot retract a little bit before attacking him with kisses again. “Baby,” He whined, “You can’t be serious. Stay with me,” Race was about to react when,

“Is there a problem here, Race?” Race looked up and saw Jack standing there. Immediately he felt Spot tense up against him, and Race’s anger flared, knowing what was coming. He was about to answer when Spot spoke up, answering for him.

“Nothing you can help him with,” Spot sneered.

Jack sneered right back, “If I was talking to you, Sean, I would have said your name. But I didn’t, so I wasn’t, so fuck off.”

Spot was up and off the couch before Race could even think, standing toe-to-toe with Jack and staring him down. “Don’t make me fucking do it, Kelly, I swear, they’ll have to identify your body by your goddamn teeth.” Jack eyes were wild, and he pushed Spot off of him, shoving him roughly back onto the couch. In that moment, something inside Race snapped. He was on his feet in an instant, pushing them both away from each other.

“Are you two  _fucking_   _serious_?” He snapped, glaring at them. He tried to think of more to say but nothing came to mind, the insufferable heat being at the forefront of his thoughts. The music was blaring, the bass was just as loud as the blood pounding in his ears. It was too much. He could feel the stares of not only Spot and Jack, but of others who had been brought to attention by his outburst. His heart was racing, and he could feel his breath getting short. “I can’t—I can’t fucking deal with this,” Before anyone could answer, he was turning around and fleeing the scene.

He ignored Spot calling after him and kept going, down the stairs, past the throngs of people and right out the front door. Albert lived in the woods, which was good for parties, but bad for an overwhelmed Race. There was nowhere he could go without getting lost, so he just settled on the side of the house. It was still too hot. He stripped off his flannel and pressed his cheek against the cold house in a vain attempt to lower his body temperature. A small gust of wind blew, carrying away the stench of booze and weed.

“Race?” A voice called out, and immediately Race tensed up, his breath quickening again. It was Albert who came around the side, instead of Spot or Jack, and when Race saw the familiar mop of auburn he instinctively relaxed.

He saw Albert look down at the discarded flannel and then back up at Race, who was pressing himself against the house. “…What are you doing?”

“Hey,” He managed, sinking down to sit on the dead grass, his back to the house. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just…” He trailed off. “Calming myself down.”

Albert sat down, an arms-length away from him. “Are you okay? What was the trigger?”

Racer was silent for a while, before burying his head in his hands and taking a shuddering breath. “Spot ‘nd Jack got into a fight.”

“What about?”

Race threw his hands in the air. “Hell if I know, they won’t fucking tell me! I bet it’s over me, too, that’s why.”

“Is contact okay?” Albert asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Race said tiredly. He felt Albert’s hand on his shoulder.

“Was that the only thing that triggered you or is there more to it?”

“I don’t know,” Race said, his voice breaking, he felt tears threaten to spill over and was too tired to force them back. “I guess—they were yelling at each other tonight, and I was just  _there_ , watching it happen, nothing I was saying—no one was listening to me—I didn’t know what was going on… It just reminded me of home…” He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears, knowing they’d only be replaced with more if he tried. “And then they started getting physical, and—and—I just couldn’t deal with it.” He looked up at Albert and let out a watery laugh. “So here I am, sitting and having a panic attack about it right outside your house. What a great friend I am, huh?”

Albert was silent, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. He held it to his ear, while Race just watched in confusion. “Yeah, hi, 9-1-1? Could I get a couple of cop cars over to 18473 Eastmont Drive? There’s a party going on there and it’s getting pretty out-of-hand, I’d like it shut down, please.” He waited and smiled at Race before continuing. “Yes. No, I don’t believe there’s any underage illegal activities, but the music is loud and my husband and I are trying to sleep.” A pause. “Of course.” Another pause. “I understand. Thanks, I’ll see you soon.”

When he hung up, Race was looking at him in confusion, the tears drying on his face. “The hell did you do that for?”

“You’re upset, Racer. Going back into the house when there’s so many people isn’t going to make it any better. Besides, I’m tired.” He got up, Race still sitting on the ground. “I’m gonna go in and yell to everyone the cops are coming, do you wanna stay out here until they’re all gone?”

“Yes, please.” And with that, Race was alone again. Unfortunately, the tranquility didn’t last.

“Antonio! There you are!” A worried voice cried, and when Race looked up, Spot was running towards him.

“What, Spot?” He asked, irritably.

“I want to say I’m sorry.” He said, sitting right where Albert had been a few minutes ago. “Are you okay?”

Race was  _really_ getting tired of people asking him if he was okay. He didn’t answer.

“I’m just… I’m sorry about all this…” Spot sighed, rubbing his neck. “I’m so so sorry. It’s stupid of me an’ Jack to fight over something so stupid, I’m sorry.”

It was a while before Race spoke up again. “Sean.” He said, looking up tiredly. “Can we go home, please?”

“Of course,” Spot reached into his pocket and fumbled with his keys. “You’re lucky I didn’t drink tonight.”

Race didn’t say anything.

“Spot,”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what the fight was about?” He whispered, forcing his tears back.

Spot looked at him, realizing how fucked up his boyfriend looked.

 “Do you realize how terrible you made me feel? Relationships are supposed to have communication or some shit.” Once he had started ranting, he couldn’t seem to stop, his words getting louder and faster and angrier. “You wouldn’t tell me what the fight was about, and every time I tried to go ask Jack, you wouldn’t even fucking let me do that. I’ve hated every goddamn minute you and Jack have been at each other’s throats, you know why?” He didn’t wait for Spot to answer. “Because it reminded me of my parents, Sean. My parents. The sole reason why I’ve never had a lasting relationship. Them.  _You two_  constantly bickering and dragging me into your fights. And I couldn’t fucking handle that, not again. I lived with that shit for seventeen years before I finally gave up and ran away, and I’m not about to live with it for another week because you and fucking  _Jack_ couldn’t work out whatever the fuck you were fighting about.”

“We were fighting because—”

“ _I DON’T FUCKING CARE, SPOT_ ,” Race yelled, the echo of his voice getting lost in the forest. “I don’t give a shit about why you were fighting, not anymore. Go on and fight your hearts out, fucking brawl it out in a Denny’s parking lot or whatever, but don’t fucking expect me to be there when you come back home.” He snapped, and pushed himself off the ground.

“I changed my mind,” He said, picking up his flannel and tying it around his waist. “I’ll stay at Albert’s tonight.”

“Racer, I—” Spot tried to say, but Race cut him off.

“Go home.”


End file.
